Can't Turn Around Now
by sportsnightnut
Summary: The world is growing colder, and it's not just the weather. A Season 6 AU story.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hi everyone! This is an AU Season 6 story, where both Alicia and Diane remain at Lockhart/Gardner and Will doesn't, you know, die. I've had this idea floating around in my head for a little while but decided to give it a shot on paper and see where it goes. There will be some flashbacks involved that should resolve any unanswered questions. As always, your reads and reviews are appreciated :) Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Nothing recognizable belongs to me.

* * *

Alicia stirs, the late September sunlight filtering in through the window. It's far past the time she should have been awake and getting dressed for work, but her bed is warm and the outside world is growing colder, in more ways than just the weather.

She can run her left hand through her hair now without it getting tangled in the metal of the diamond ring she used to wear every day. Her hand is bare. No more ring.

No more Peter.

Eli had practically _begged_ her not to divorce him. Alicia thought for a moment that he was actually going to get on his hands and knees. He said it wasn't good for either of them, that there was no reason they couldn't keep doing what they were doing-stay married in name only, make appearances together, but, you know, _screw other people_.

Alicia had just laughed at Eli's words. He sat across from her, taken aback at her newfound attitude. The old Alicia never would have divorced Peter, much less laughed at Eli's insistence that she not, but this was not the old Alicia.

This was the new Alicia. And the new Alicia was tired. Tired of Peter. Tired of pretending.

So she pushed past Eli and his objections, past Peter's protests and his hurtful words, past the heartache of a twenty-year marriage crumbling to pieces in a matter of weeks.

She pushed past all of it, and now she's here. Alone.

Well, not _really_ alone. There's Grace and Owen and Veronica, and there's work. Cary's gone off to start Agos and Associates, which leaves her with one less friendly face each morning. There's Diane, with whom she's still trying to forge a healthy and professional friendship. There's Kalinda, but they're not really friends anymore, at least not like they used to be.

And then there's Will.

Alicia saw the look in his eyes when she told him about the divorce. He looked sad and hopeful at the same time. Sad because she was hurting, but hopeful because he thought maybe, just maybe, they could finally be together. This would be their good timing.

But it wasn't good timing. And it's still not good timing. Not yet, anyway. Not days after she signed a piece of paper that dissolved her lifelong promises into something completely insignificant. Will understands that, because he's been her friend for nearly twenty years and wants to continue being her friend. Except he doesn't know how to do that, not when he knows he could be more.

Not when he's no longer her boss; she's a partner, his equal. Not when it wouldn't be an affair. Not when they wouldn't have to keep it a secret. Not when he could theoretically hold her hand in public or sit next to her at dinner and no one would be able to say a _goddamn thing_ because she's not the governor's wife anymore.

So Will avoids Alicia like the plague, and it's killing her.

Every conversation they have is awkward and strained. He's trying not to ask her how she's doing or anything _too_ personal, which only makes it worse, because he knows exactly how she's doing. She's tired. She's hurt. She needs her friends.

Alicia's doing an impressive job of hiding it all, though, just like five years ago. She puts on crisp suits, shiny stillettos, and bold lipstick, straightens her hair, and stands tall. She ignores the stares she gets when she walks down the street, the way the assistants and the associates and the other partners whisper things about her when they think she isn't near. Alicia should have divorced Peter a long time ago, when everyone would have supported her for ditching that scumbag cheater of a husband. But people just stare at her now, accusing her of things like not being loyal and supportive or some other bullshit about which she couldn't really give a damn.

It's all well and good, because she can keep it up for most of the day, but when she's alone at night, she can feel it in her bones.

The world is growing colder, and it's not just the weather.

* * *

"We have some new business to discuss."

Diane and Will sit in front of the partners. He's leaning back in his chair, a little casually, while Diane sits upright with her hands clasped in front of her.

"Let me guess, it's some decision the two of you made without consulting the rest of us?" David Lee scoffs.

"Sit _down_," Diane replies angrily. "You are no more important than any other partner in this room."

He sighs and sits back in his chair as Will rolls his eyes.

"It's about the new branches of the firm," Diane continues. "You all know about and have approved acquiring offices in Los Angeles and New York."

The partners nod in affirmation.

"We will need at least one partner to go to each of the new branches to help it get on its feet. Maybe six months, maybe a year. Scout out office space. Get a feel for the area and its clients. Hire some associates. Get the Lockhart/Gardner name out there and make us look good," she adds, smiling. "Do we have anyone who's willing to temporarily relocate to Los Angeles?"

Her hand shoots up in the air faster than she can fully comprehend what she's doing, and the words leave her lips faster than her brain can stop them from doing so.

"I'll go."

Diane and Will's heads snap quickly to their left.

Alicia's hand is in the air.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hi everyone! Thank you for being patient in waiting for an update. This story is taking a little more research than the others, and I want to make sure I get all the details right. :) I am so glad you enjoyed the first chapter and let me know that through your reviews, favorites, and follows. I appreciate those more than I can say!

A shout-out to **MayAnderson19**, who always encourages me to pursue these (sometimes crazy) ideas I have. We just started collaborating on a fic entitled "Love You Like I Can," and (some shameless self-promotion here) we'd love for you to check it out!

Enjoy Chapter 2!

* * *

"Thank you, Alicia," Diane says smoothly. If she's surprised, there isn't a hint of it in her voice. "And how about New York? Any takers?"

Will lifts his hand up, just barely flicking his wrist. "I'll go," he says, and Diane nods.

"Anyone else have new business they'd like to discuss?" The partners shake their head, and Diane adjourns the meeting. Before either of them can catch Alicia, she's disappeared back to her office.

Diane tilts her head toward Alicia's office; Will just nods, silently.

* * *

"You're leaving?" he asks, his quiet voice cutting through the silence. Alicia sits behind her laptop, typing away, and doesn't look up when he enters the room.

"So are you," she counters, without missing a beat. She's not about to let her defenses down around him; he's been avoiding her for too long.

"Yeah, but...Los Angeles? That's pretty far."

"Mm," she says, uninterested. "Will, I have a lot of work to do."

"Are you running away?" he asks, taking a step into her office. He's not giving up on this conversation.

"Would you blame me?" Alicia snaps, throwing a file down onto her desk. Both her voice and the sound of the stack of papers startles him. She's finally looking up from her computer.

"I don't have any friends here, Will. I'm the Governor's career-ruining, unsupportive ex-wife who decided she was tired of standing beside a cheating sonofabitch husband. But no one understands that. And the friends I thought I had?" She shakes her head. "Cary's _gone_, Kalinda _slept_ with Peter, and you...well, you treat me like I'm made of _fucking_ glass."

Will knows she's pissed; Alicia Florrick doesn't toss the f-word around lightly. (_Is it Cavanaugh now?_ He realizes he doesn't even know if she changed her name.)

"I need to walk down the street and not get stared at," she adds. She's letting her defenses down; her words are strained. "I need to go to work every day and not wonder what everyone is whispering behind my back. I need to get the hell away from Chicago and I need to get the hell away from Peter."

(There's an implication there that she also needs to get away from Will, but she doesn't say it.)

"I...didn't want to hurt you," Will says, the right corner of his lips turning up, forming a sad smile. "I thought you needed some space."

Will turns to leave, but Alicia's voice stops him. "Kinda sounds like you're running away, too," she adds, staring at the back of his gray suit jacket. "New York's even farther from Los Angeles than Chicago is."

He doesn't respond.

(Alicia's right, you know.)

This is the last time they speak directly to each other before she leaves.

* * *

Two weeks later, just barely into October, and Alicia is packed and ready to go. Owen has moved half his stuff into her apartment so he can stay with Grace while Alicia "jets off to the wonderland of palm trees and cheap avocados," or whatever it was he had teased her with when he found out about this plan.

Grace is standing in the entryway, her arms wrapped around her mother's waist, squeezing her tightly. Alicia squeezes back; it's like Grace is a little kid again.

"I wish I could come with you," Grace says, her voice muffled in Alicia's jacket.

Alicia strokes her hair. "I know, honey. But you need to focus on school. We've talked about this."

She can feel Grace nod into her chest; they had talked about this, frequently, over the past two weeks. Alicia would be back before the end of the school year, so it didn't make sense to pull Grace out of one school and drop her in another after the school year had already started, and when she'd have to leave before it was over. It had been hard enough switching schools in Chicago; Grace had finally made friends and settled in, and it just didn't seem logical to mess any of that up.

"You'll be back for Christmas, right? And I get to come visit you at Thanksgiving?"

"_We_ get to visit her at Thanksgiving," Owen pipes up. "I already bought sunglasses for the occasion."

Grace giggles as Alicia pulls back and wipes away her daughter's tears with her thumbs. "You're supposed to be tired of me, anyway," she adds. "You're a teenager. Start hating me or something."

She shakes her head. "I love you, mom."

"I love you too, Grace," Alicia answers, squeezing her daughter one more time.

Owen pulls up the handle on one of her suitcases. "Shall we?" he asks, and he gestures toward the door. Grace waves to Alicia as they head into the hallway and shut the door behind them.

Once the suitcases are loaded in Owen's trunk, Alicia climbs into the passenger seat and sighs heavily.

"Having second thoughts?"

"No," she says, shaking her head. "It's just...I'm going to be alone, Owen. Like, living on my own, don't know anyone who lives in this city kind of alone. I haven't been that kind of alone since before Georgetown."

"Since before Will," Owen corrects her as he merges onto the highway.

"We're not talking about Will," Alicia reminds him.

"Maybe _you're_ not talking about Will, but _I'm_ talking about Will," he replies. "You in Los Angeles, him in New York...sounds like some kind of long-distance-lovers chick flick waiting to happen."

"Mm," Alicia says, similarly disinterested in this conversation. She stares in the rearview mirror as the skyline of Chicago begins to disappear behind her-and with it, her life as Alicia Florrick.

* * *

Owen pulls her suitcases out of the trunk as Alicia grabs her purse and her phone from the front seat. He lifts the suitcases up onto the sidewalk for her before she reaches for him and hugs him tight.

"Thank you for taking care of Grace," she says. "Please don't set my apartment on fire."

"I promise I'll clean it up if I do," Owen says, smiling, as he holds up three fingers. "Scout's honor."

Alicia rolls her eyes. "See you in a few weeks, Owen."

"Bye, sis!" he calls as he walks around to the driver's side. "Put some sunshine in an envelope for me, will ya?"

Shaking her head, she rolls the suitcases to the ticket counter. She scans her boarding pass and presses "two" on the screen for the number of bags she's checking. An agent comes over shortly after. "Alicia Florrick?" he asks, pulling the sticky bag tags off the little printer.

"Yes," she responds, looking at his name tag. "Hi...Micah."

Micah smiles. "You did the right thing, you know," he tells her as she hoists one of the heavy suitcases onto the scale. He wraps the tag around the handle before she lifts the second suitcase. "Your ex-husband was a jackass."

Alicia laughs-the first time she's really laughed in days. "Well, thank you for saying so," she tells him, returning the smile.

"Going to San Jose?" he confirms as he hands over her baggage claim ticket. She nods.

"Enjoy the sunshine," he tells her, and she offers him a small wave before heading to security.

Once she's through the checkpoint, she buys herself a cinnamon sugar pretzel from a tiny little shop that makes the whole terminal smell delicious. It's overpriced, but Alicia doesn't care.

She's pleased that the person sitting next to her on the plane doesn't seem to recognize her; they talk about their kids, and Alicia tells the woman that her son goes to Georgetown and that her daughter is a junior in high school. The woman has a daughter in her senior year of college at Northwestern and another daughter Grace's age. After the flight attendants pass out drinks and snacks, they fall into a comfortable silence, and Alicia dozes off for most of the flight.

* * *

They land in San Jose before lunchtime. Alicia had decided to fly into San Jose and make the five-hour drive to Los Angeles-it'll give her some time to think, some time to figure out what exactly her new life is going to look like.

She waits impatiently for her suitcases at baggage claim, then catches the shuttle over to the rental cars. She chooses a red one with the kind of paint that sparkles in the sun.

She remembers to turn her cell phone on again once she's settled in the car. She sees a few work e-mails, but none that require an immediate response. She does, however, notice an important text from Cary.

"Got the certified copies of your name change documents today. Everything is in order. Hope L.A. treats you well. :)"

Alicia smiles to herself, glad that Cary hadn't stopped being her friend despite the fact that she chose to stay at Lockhart-Gardner instead of starting a firm with him. She's glad she can count on him, both as a friend and as a colleague.

"Thanks," she types back. "Just landed. You're a pretty good divorce lawyer, you know. You should consider becoming the next David Lee."

She chuckles as she hits "send," then starts the car and pulls out of the garage.

Alicia drives south on the 101 for a little while until she merges onto the 5 in Merced County. It's still early, not even noon, and she rolls the windows down, breathing in the fresh California air that smells nothing like Chicago.

The sun makes her feel awake, alive, no longer suffocated; no longer hidden in the shadow of Peter Florrick.

She's Alicia Cavanaugh again.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hi, all! For those of you in America, hope you're enjoying the holiday :) I'm heading out to enjoy some sunshine and baseball. Have a wonderful rest of your weekend! And thanks, as always, for your support of my writing. You guys rock.

* * *

Even though it's only October, it feels cold enough to snow on the day Will leaves Chicago.

It's no coincidence that his world grew colder, too, when Alicia decided to leave for California.

Diane gives her friend a big hug. "Call me when you get there," she requests. "And send pictures from your phone. I want to make sure the offices are perfect."

Will smiles. "And bagels."

"Yes, please. Overnighted so they don't get stale."

He shakes his head and smiles at his partner. "I'll call when I get there," he repeats.

Not long after, he's dragging his suitcases through O'Hare, making his way to the ticket counter. He doesn't bother making small talk with the agent; he just wants to be rid of the luggage.

When he finally gets through security, he pauses at the terminal map to find coffee. The Starbucks is nowhere near his gate, but he sees it's just across from security, so he hoists his small bag onto his shoulder and heads to the counter to order.

Will sips the drink slowly, feeling the bitterness and the acidity of the black coffee linger in his throat. He's surrounded by people, but he's completely alone.

Airports offer interesting glimpses into the lives of others-simultaneously, people are saying goodbye and people are saying hello. Some are relieved to be leaving; others linger, wondering if they really have to go.

Some have friends, family, significant others who await their arrival; it's a beautiful scene, being reunited like that. Others are clinging to people in an effort to delay the goodbye they didn't want to come.

There had been no one here to see him off today, and there would be no one waiting for him to arrive in New York.

And that's when he allows Alicia to cross his mind.

* * *

He's tried to block out all thoughts of her for as long as possible. She just left for Los Angeles yesterday, but they hadn't spoken directly to each other in over a week. They'd spoken near each other in meetings and courtrooms, but never to each other, purposely never making eye contact.

God, she had seemed so hurt.

He couldn't believe it when she offered to open up the LA branch of the firm. It didn't make sense; why would she pick up her whole life and move across the country, only to return six months later?

And then he realizes: she didn't take her whole life with her. She didn't take _anything_ with her.

She went alone.

Will knows he doesn't have the right to be upset by any of this; he'd brought it on himself, if anything. He'd been avoiding her for weeks.

He knows he should have been a better friend. He should have supported her, been there for her. He should have yelled at the associates talking about her behind her back and fired the assistants who encouraged it. He should have stood beside her and her decision to walk away from a painful, crumbling marriage to a man who had broken everything that mattered to her. And he did support that decision-he would have supported it long ago.

(He would have supported it if she'd never married Peter in the first place, but that's neither here nor there.)

But instead, Will avoided her. It was too hard to be near her without being _with_ her. Their affair wasn't like this; it was indecorous, it was secret, it was something all their own. This was something entirely different: this was Chicago's sixteenth most-eligible bachelor standing next to the ex-First Lady of Illinois. This was the Will of twenty years ago standing next to the Alicia of twenty years ago: so scared to admit how much he loved her that he decided not to say anything at all.

Alicia had always carried within her an innate strength; it was in her blood. She'd been through enough hell in her life, starting at such an early age that she didn't have a choice in the matter. Her dad, her mom, Owen-before she even had the choice to be mature, she was forced into it by her family.

She was a good girl before she was a good wife.

Alicia's words ring audibly in Will's mind. "_You treat me like I'm made of fucking glass."_

He hadn't meant to; he really hadn't. It's just that Alicia had been through so much, he didn't want to add himself to the laundry list of _things_ going on in her life. He would have much rather blended into the background, not bothering her, not disrupting the calm she was attempting to create in the chaos of her fall from grace.

Of course she took it the wrong way; it was the wrong decision. He should have taken his place by her side, as her friend. His own selfish desires aside, she needed that. She needed him. And he had always _been_ her friend, throughout every good and bad thing that had happened to either of them over the past twenty years. This shouldn't have been any different.

Will sighs, louder than he meant to, garnering stares from nearby tables. He shakes his head and stands, the wood chair scraping against the tile floor.

As he throws his cup in the trash, a thought crosses his mind, one that scares him more than a little.

He realizes he wouldn't blame Alicia if she never wanted to talk to him again.

* * *

Will walks to the gate and checks the screen to make sure his flight is on time; it is. The 12:45 to JFK, and boarding is about to begin.

He hands his ticket to the gate agent, who scans it and wishes him a good trip. Her words make him want to laugh, want to say something about how he can't even have a good _life_ without his best friend in it, but he knows he'd look like a total nutcase, so he thanks her and walks down the jetway in silence.

He's glad he booked a window seat; as they take off over Chicago, he watches the skyline disappear behind the wing. The only thing in his view are the chilly waters of Lake Michigan.

The last time he was on a plane to New York, Alicia was by his side.

_She offered to sit in the middle seat; she was too nice. Always thinking about others. He insisted she take the window seat; she insisted she take the middle. She glared, playfully; he acquiesced, on the condition that she take the window seat on the way back._

_They pulled out their laptops and talked case strategy for the first hour of the 2.5 hour flight. After, they'd ordered wine from the flight attendant and celebrated their recent successes at the firm._

_Will watched her as she sipped the wine, her newly-cut bangs falling into her eyes. He reached over to push them back so he could see every last bit of Alicia's beautiful face. She smiled at the touch of his fingertips on her cheek, and he allowed his hand to linger longer than necessary._

_New York was different; it was a place where they didn't have to hide anything. No one knew them here. He could hold her hand on the street and not think twice about it. _

_It was also the place where Alicia admitted, both to herself and to Will, that this was more than just some passion-fueled, sex-driven affair._

_"This is the happiest I've ever been," she said, and he closed his eyes and smiled, wanting to savor that moment, wanting to burn it into his mind permanently._

_He'd known it before now; he'd known it for more than fifteen years. But this was the place he allowed his heart to be open, vulnerable, as he admitted to himself just how much he loved her._

_This was the happiest he'd ever been, too._

* * *

Will's thoughts are interrupted by the incessant prodding from the flight attendant. "Sir? Sir? Do you want something to drink?"

"Oh. Sorry," he says, not at all apologetic. "Uh...sure. Orange juice."

She shakes her head, in disbelief it took him that long just to tell her he wanted some freaking juice.

After she hands him the drink, Will sips the sweet liquid as he thinks about how _right_ Alicia was when she had accused him of running away, too.

He'd wanted to get as far from her as possible; wanted to get away from Chicago, where he knew he'd be surrounded by her presence, even if she was thousands of miles away. He'd see her empty office, he'd hear about Peter on the news, he'd walk past hotels where they'd spent many lunch hours, he'd eat at that little diner where she liked to get pancakes, he'd go to her favorite Starbucks where she would buy coffee for them before work.

But then, an ironic truth hits him.

It doesn't matter where he goes or how far he runs.

Alicia will always be with him.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hi everyone! Thanks for your patience in waiting for an update. Life has been a whirlwind these past few weeks, much more than I expected it to be, and my muse has been all over the place with various stories. But, never fear, I haven't abandoned this one. Not in the slightest. :)

Also, this Grace is definitely more mature than canon Grace. I've had this discussion with a few people; it is one of my constant frustrations in the show. I'm glad that toward the end of Season 5, she was a little better, but I think she has the potential to be _way_ more mature than she acts. (Sigh.)

Oh, and one more thing-there's a small tag to 2.3, "Breaking Fast," during the discussion Alicia and Owen have. I went back to watch that episode since it was the first time we met Owen on the show. :)

* * *

"Graaaaaaaace?"

Owen stands in front of his sister's fridge, perplexed. She'd left them a few casserole dishes and a whole stack of Tupperware packed full of food for them to eat, with a list on the fridge and everything carefully labeled with masking tape and Sharpie.

It's the most mom-like thing he's seen her do in years (besides that whole loving and protecting her children thing) and he can't decide if it's sweet or weird.

"Yeah?" Grace replies, slightly breathless from running into the kitchen from her room.

"What do we…how?" he asks, gesturing to the fridge in front of them.

She giggles. "Mom left us dinner. It's not rocket science. Just pick something from the list you want. I'm sure it's all labeled."

Owen eyes her suspiciously. "But…the oven and the foil and the…thing."

"Just pick something," she says, sounding exasperated, and Owen can't help but hear and see all the Alicia in her.

"You sound like your mom," he mumbles, and Grace smiles. She takes that as a compliment.

Owen shuts the fridge. "Pizza?"

"Owen!" she exclaims. "Mom made us all this food. Do you know how furious she'd be if she knew we were eating pizza on her second night away from home?"

"I do. All the more reason to do it," he declares, and Grace just shakes her head as he dials.

They retreat to the living room, where Owen picks up the remote and turns on the tv. "Homework done?"

"Almost," Grace says. "Just have to proofread a paper."

"Good. Then I can corrupt you with television." He settles on a rerun of How I Met Your Mother. "Neil Patrick _Harris_," he says, sighing wistfully. "He's so…" and stops himself before he says something completely inappropriate in front of his niece.

"So _what_?" Grace teases, and Owen elbows her.

"Just hush and watch the man at work."

The pizza arrives not long after the episode ends, and Owen takes it to the dining room while Grace grabs the necessities from the kitchen. He scoops two of the deep-dish slices on his plate and one onto hers, and they wait impatiently for it to cool.

As Grace takes the first bite of gooey, cheesy pizza, Owen poses a question. "How are you handling…all this?" he asks somewhat delicately.

"You mean my parents getting divorced and my mom jumping on a plane to LA?" Owen nods, and Grace shrugs. "Okay."

"Just okay?"

"I don't know," she says, putting her fork down. "I mean, I think I'm glad my parents got divorced. I wanted them to be together, but I know he hurt her. He's not…he's not a very good guy, is he?" she asks, looking up at her uncle.

Owen doesn't know what to say. He's never been president of the Peter Florrick Fan Club. He practically parades around the apartment in a "Team Will" t-shirt, and although Alicia won't tell him what, he knows there's _something_ going on there, with them jetting off to opposite sides of the country. But this is his sister's daughter, not his own, and he doesn't really know how he should explain it, so he decides to go for the simple and truthful answer.

"No," he finally says, and Grace nods, having expected that.

"I just want mom to be happy, you know? I think divorcing dad made her happier."

"But not entirely happy?" Owen asks.

"No. She still looked sad after," Grace explains. "And then she decided to go to LA all of a sudden, and…I'm kinda worried about her."

"That's very mature of you," he tells her, mouth full of pizza, and she smiles. "But I really think your mom just needed some fresh air and sunshine. Did you notice it's gray and _freezing_ outside?" he jokes.

Grace laughs a little.

"Yeah. Do you…know anything about Will?" she asks, after a pause.

Owen shakes his head. "Your mom just said she didn't want to talk about him. But…she's in love with him."

She nods, twirling cheese around her fork.

"I just think it was easier for her to run away instead of owning her feelings toward him."

"She wasn't running away from us, right?" she asks, sounding worried.

"No. No, no, no. Not at all. Just…I think your dad. And Will. And whatever's going on that she won't talk about. But not you. She wanted to take you with her," Owen tells her with a smile. "You could've fit in her suitcase, kiddo. I don't know why you didn't try."

Grace finishes her glass of milk. "Just a few weeks until Thanksgiving," she says.

"Five weeks of nothing but Grace and Owen's Fabulous Adventures."

She rises from her chair and walks around to the back of Owen's, looping her arms around his shoulders and squeezing him, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for staying with me."

He reaches his hand up to touch her arm. "You're welcome," he says sincerely.

After the plates are in the dishwasher and Grace is back in her room, Owen opens a bottle of wine and sits on the couch. It's only 4:30 in Los Angeles, which means it's the perfect time to call his sister.

"Owen!" she says happily.

"You have never sounded that excited to hear my voice in your entire life, dear sister," he teases. "Please tell me you're driving around in some fabulous red convertible with your Ray Bans on and the top down."

"If by all that you mean sitting at a desk in a completely empty office, yes, that's _exactly_ what I'm doing."

"With Ray Bans on?"

"No, but I'll put that on my list of things to buy," she says, laughing. "How's Grace?"

"Worried about you," he says simply.

Alicia sighs. "How is it that she's so mature at sixteen?"

"She's _your_ daughter, 'Licia."

She chuckles knowingly. "Yeah. She definitely is. But is she okay? She doesn't feel abandoned, does she? I just…this all happened so fast, and I know it's going to be really good for me, but I don't want to hurt her in the process. I tried for so long to avoid that."

"She knows. I think she misses you, though."

"That will pass. As soon as she realizes how much more fun life can be with you in charge."

It's Owen's turn to laugh. "Yeah, well, if I do say so myself, I am _pret_-ty fabulous company."

There's a pause before Owen speaks again. "So…tell me more," he says, and she does, describing the great office space they'd secured on Wilshire Boulevard, and how her apartment is fully furnished in this beautiful stuff from Pottery Barn, and how sunny it is and how she can practically smell the beach from her bedroom window, and Owen thinks this is the most relieved she's sounded in years.

"You sound good, sis."

"I _feel_ good," she says. "I feel…free. I'm not a Florrick. I'm not tied down to Peter or that life anymore."

"Alicia Cavanaugh sounds much better," Owen adds. _Shit, I almost said Gardner._ "You remember all those years ago when I came out to visit, and I told you that by the end of those three days, you and Peter were going to get a divorce?"

"It wasn't really all those years ago, Owen. It was four years ago."

"Fine. Four years ago. I was so mad that you were being so stubborn, but mostly, I couldn't understand how you were keeping it together," he said. "I would have walked around, either sad or furious all the time, but you…you just stood up straight and held your head high and didn't take crap from anybody. I thought if only I could be just a little bit like you, I might be a better person."

Alicia wipes away a tear with the back of her hand. "That was one of the hardest years of my life."

"I know. But…you're so good at this, Alicia. You're so good at kicking ass and worrying about others and doing things for everyone else who isn't you. I think you need this."

"Me too,"she says, nodding. "Me too." A few seconds pass, and she says "Hey, can I talk to Grace?"

"Sure thing," he says, and gets up to knock on Grace's door. Owen tosses her his phone. "It's your mom," he whispers, and shuts the door behind him, letting the two of them talk.

* * *

When she finishes talking to her daughter, Alicia sets the phone down on the desk and looks out the window before spinning around in her office chair. The view from this corner office is very different: a pink and dark blue sunset beginning behind palm trees, with a glow that stretches all the way to the ocean.

She's set up interviews for Friday, allowing herself a few days to explore the area, take some time for herself, and maybe just _sleep_. She flicks through a Chinese food menu on her phone, trying to decide what to order when she gets back to the apartment, and her phone starts buzzing in her hand.

_Diane Lockhart_, the screen reads.

"Hello, Diane!" Alicia says brightly.

"Alicia! How's Los Angeles?"

"Very sunny and warm, as promised. And Chicago?"

"Nice and gray, just like you left it!"

The two women share a laugh. "Actually, Alicia, I called because…oh, hang on, I think that's…" and she cuts off for a few seconds, then comes right back.

"Hi, Will!" Alicia hears Diane say, and she gets a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Hey!" he responds, happy to hear from his partner. "You holding down the fort?"

"As best I can with the likes of David Lee," she says, rolling her eyes. "Listen, Will, I have Alicia on the phone, too. I wanted the three of us to talk strategy."

Both Alicia and Will fall silent as Diane continues talking, expertly filling the silence created by two longtime friends and colleagues who aren't currently speaking with one another.

Alicia and Will both talk to Diane, but never directly to each other, or at least never addressing the other by name. Diane is aware, but chooses to ignore it; the two are going to have to figure it out eventually, and they don't need her intervention to do so.

"That sounds great, Alicia," Diane says. "Now….oh, dear god. Louis Canning is standing outside my office." She reaches up and swiftly removes her glasses, peering at the short man standing on the other side of her glass doors. "I need to go take care of…whatever this is. You two keep talking."

"Uh…sure. Thanks, Diane," Will says.

"Okay, Diane. Thank you!" Alicia responds, sounding way more cheerful than she is.

She's not cheerful; she's terrified.

She's terrified, because she and Will haven't actually talked to each other in over two weeks, and she has no idea what to say, even if she's going to keep it strictly professional.

They both hear the click of Diane's line exiting the conference call, and they sit in silence for the next thirty seconds. She doesn't dare speak first, but she's thinking she might have to, until—

"Alicia."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Hi, everyone. Thank you again for being so patient with me. I went on vacation and my muse didn't return with me. I was feeling incredibly stuck on this chapter, but some wonderful suggestions from a friend were just what I needed to get going again. My utmost thanks to Chrissie (**OnlyYouForever**) for her inspiration, and thanks to **guategal** for giving me that extra nudge I needed to get this chapter posted. I sincerely hope it won't be quite so long between this chapter and the next.

Tags to 1.1, "Pilot," 2.23, "Closing Arguments," and 5.14, "A Few Words." And there's a Sports Night reference in here, if any of you are also fans of that wonderful show. (Oh, and there's a legal definition used in here that doesn't belong to me.)

I hope this is worth the wait :)

* * *

"Alicia."

As soon as her name leaves his lips, it's like she can hear him saying her name over and over and over.

The way he says her name, the way he's said her name for the past twenty years, in that sweet and slightly breathless voice he only uses when he has a smile on his face. It's a voice she's never heard him use with anyone else; no other woman or person in the world has been fortunate enough to be on its receiving end.

It's the way he said her name the first time, the last time, and all the times in between.

And nothing about this time feels different than any of those other times, except for the fact that _they're not talking._ And they're farther apart emotionally than they are geographically, and that should make a difference, but it doesn't.

Not even a little.

* * *

She stood in the corner, near a picnic table covered in short aluminum cans of beer and tall glass bottles of wine. She held a cup of white wine in her left hand, a piece of cheese in her right, and thought to herself that this was definitely the classiest pool party she'd ever been to.

Her roommate Carrie was off talking to a guy whose name Alicia neither cared to remember nor did remember. He seemed like an obnoxious-third-year-know-it-all who was just crashing the orientation pool party to meet all the first-year girls. She waved hello to Monica, the girl who'd just moved in down the hall, and that's when she saw him.

He was soaking wet, having just done several impressive cannonballs into the other end of the pool. He grabbed a towel and bent over to shake the water out of his hair. Alicia was vaguely aware that there were a lot of girls staring at him, but when he looked up, his eyes found hers and never left.

"Hey," he said, when he made his way to her side of the pool. "I'm Will. Gardner."

"Alicia Cavanaugh," she said, smiling as she accepted his handshake.

"Alicia," he repeated, smiling back, almost as if by saying it out loud, he would ingrain those three syllables on his lips forever.

* * *

"Alicia!"

Will hoisted himself over the barrier separating the field and the stands, running to the woman who stood, grinning wildly. He removed the cap from his head and placed it atop hers, adjusting it to fit over her ponytail.

"You did it!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him. As he picked her up and spun her around, she tilted her head back in laughter. "Division champions, Will!"

When he set her back down on solid ground, she pulled him in for another hug. "I'm really proud of you," she whispered.

"Thanks, Leesh," he whispered back, as Alicia squeezed her best friend tightly.

* * *

"Alicia," he said softly. "_Alicia_."

She grumbled and pulled the blanket up to her chin, turning away from the sound of his voice.

"Leeeeesh." Will tried sweet-talking her. "C'mon, Leesh. Time to get up. We have class in an hour."

Alicia grumbled again, pulling the blanket up over her face, nestling deeper into the pillows of his couch.

"I'll buy you coffee on the way."

She rolled over, pulling the blanket away from her face. "Fine," she agreed, and Will smiled.

"That's my girl."

* * *

"Alicia!" Will whined. Even while complaining, her name still sounded sweet on his lips.

"No!" she responded, re-opening the textbook he'd just slammed shut. "We are not going to stop studying. Come on. We have an exam tomorrow. Just one more exam, and then it's the weekend, and I promise we can drink all the beer you want. But not now."

"Fine. Droit moral. Go."

"Droit moral is a French term for moral rights. It refers to the personal rights a creator has in their work. It protects artistic integrity and prevents others from altering the work of artists, or taking the artist's name off work, without the artist's permission. Moral rights are retained by an author even if all of the other rights granted by the Copyright Act are assigned to another. Moral rights cannot be assigned to anyone else by the author. In 1990, the United States Congress enacted the Visual Artists Rights Act, which amended the Copyright Act to include limited moral rights with regard to works of visual art created on or after June 1, 1991."

Alicia let out a deep breath, and Will just stared at her.

"Jesus, Leesh."

"What?" she replied defensively.

"That was word-for-word from this textbook. Word for fucking word."

She grinned proudly. "See what studying gets you? Now, your turn. Intellectual property. Go."

* * *

"Aliiiiiiiiiciaaaaaaa."

"Wow. You're drunk," she said, chuckling, as she sipped on her wine.

"I am not," he protested, but there was no use. His stumbling back to the couch said everything his surprisingly coherent words didn't.

"You see that bottle of rum, and how it's empty? You are _drunk_, Will Gardner."

Will laughed. "Fine. Let's sober me up, woman."

"Woman?" she asked, mock-offendedly.

"Aliiiiiiiiiciaaaaaaa. I want pizza. Hey! That kinda rhymes. Aliiiiiiiiiciaaaaaaa and pliiiiiiiiizzaaaaaa."

"Pepperoni?" she asked as she picked up the phone.

"And extra cheese for me. 'Cause I'm _drunk_."

Alicia laughed, because she loved this man to death, rum-fueled silliness and all.

* * *

"Alicia!" he yelled, trying to get her attention from across the quad. "Cavanaugh!" he yelled again, and this time, she turned.

She ran to him, in all her navy regalia, the velvet tam placed atop her dark brown hair.

"We did it!" she squealed, and they hugged so tight she thought they'd surely break one another's ribs.

"Picture!" Will insisted, holding the plastic disposable camera high above them. Alicia opened her mouth wide and gave the camera two thumbs up. Will looked at her, laughing as he snapped the photo.

"Now a serious one," she declared, and Will had no choice but to oblige. She handed the camera to Owen, who dutifully captured the photo of the two friends, cheeks pressed together, grinning widely, eyes crinkled in happiness.

"I'm so proud of you," he said, kissing her on the cheek. She returned the kiss before hugging him again.

"I couldn't have done it without you."

* * *

She saw first his hand, stopping the silver doors from closing, before she met his eyes.

Eyes she knew even better than her own.

"Hey!" Will said, and her heart leapt into her throat.

"Hey!" she responded, not fully believing she'd run into him, here, of all places.

"Alicia Florrick!"

She had always hated the way Peter's last name sounded coming from his mouth. It felt seventeen different kinds of wrong.

But her name-her name was another story. Her name was honey, honey from the lips of a man who had kissed her so sweetly all those years ago.

_This is not how it was supposed to be_, she thought. _I wasn't supposed to lose my best friend for fifteen years._

* * *

"You're hired," Will told her, breezing into his office, case file in hand.

"I-what?" She couldn't believe the words he'd just uttered.

"First-year associate. You start on Monday."

Alicia let out the breath she'd been holding. "My god, I-I thought you were going to say sorry, the position is filled."

"Nope," Will replied, folding his hands. "You're stuck with us, now you have to impress us."

"I can do that," she said eagerly, sounding like the Alicia Cavanaugh from that other lifetime at Georgetown, landing her first real-world job. "Will, thank you, I-I know you didn't have to."

"Alicia, when I'm broke and lying in an alley somewhere, do something nice for me."

"Okay. Promise."

"Good. Now start reading up on contract law."

"I'm on it."

He smiled as she walked away, and she turned, offering him a smile-the first genuine smile she'd had the courage to offer in days.

* * *

"Will!" she called in the corridor, rushing out of the conference room to catch him. There was something about a pro bono, and-

"Alicia." He turned, smiling, his voice so warm and friendly.

"Hey," she answered, feeling instantly calmer. This wasn't going to be so terrifying. She was going to be okay.

This was Will.

This was her friend.

They would be a team again.

* * *

She woke before him, her eyes surprised by three things: the unfamiliar ceiling, the softest sheets she'd ever been wrapped in, and the unmistakable scent of Will's shampoo in her nostrils.

Right. The tequila, and the seven-thousand-eight-hundred-dollar-a-night Presidential Suite, and their one hour. The one that had turned into two, the two that had turned into three, and the three that had turned into only having time for a brief nap before reality rudely marched back in.

"Will," she whispered. She didn't want to wake him, or ever leave the bed. But they had responsibilities, and she couldn't figure out a good reason why a third-year associate would be wandering into the firm an hour late, so she whispered his name again.

He opened his eyes, slowly, a smile appearing immediately on his sleepy features. "Alicia," he said softly, and reached out to cup her cheek in his hand.

"I didn't dream it," he whispered in disbelief. "You're really here."

* * *

"Alicia."

She can hear the smile in his voice. She can hear it in the timbre, in the way the three syllables roll off his tongue. She knows it's stupid, but in these moments, she believes his lips were meant for saying her name.

"Will."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thanks, all, for your sweet reviews on my last chapter! It's great knowing that you enjoy reading the things I'm proud to share with you :) Here's the next installment in the adventures of these crazy kids.

A little shout-out to **marysunshine81** for inspiring me to include a little more Diane. I hope I did her justice!

* * *

"Will."

"How's Los Angeles?" he asks hastily. He's so happy Alicia didn't hang up on him that he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

"It's, well...warm," she says. "But I think I'm just supposed to say that."

He chuckles. "Yeah. Well, I think you got the better end of the deal. It's supposed to snow here by the end of the month."

Alicia catches herself smiling at the sound of his voice before she snaps back into the reality of her current hurt and frustration with the man on the other end of the line. "Is there anything else work-related we need to discuss?" she asks, turning the conversation back to professional matters.

"I don't think so," he replies, thumbing through the documents on the desk in front of him. He sounds a little surprised at her sudden change in demeanor. "I've got interviews Thursday, and you on Friday, right?"

"Right. I just need to e-mail the resumes to you and Diane for your review."

"I'll do the same tomorrow, when they come to set up the computers."

"Sounds good. I'll talk to you soon."

"Yeah. I'll talk to you soon," he repeats.

"Hey, Will?" He can hear the unsteadiness in her voice, and her uncertainty about asking this question. Her voice is no longer snippish as it was just moments ago.

"Yeah?"

"Are the bagels still as good as they were two years ago?"

Will smiles to himself at the deeper meaning her question implies. "Yeah. They are."

"Good. I'd hate to think otherwise."

"Have a good night," he tells her. As he presses the red button on the screen to end the call, he stares at the glowing rectangle in his hand, happy that it allowed him to hear her voice, even if just for a few minutes.

* * *

"Mr. Canning," Diane says smoothly as she stands from her seated position behind the desk. "To what do I owe this...pleasure?"

"Hey, Diane," he says. "How are things?"

"Can we please cut the crap?" she asks. "What do you want?"

"Can't a guy just stop by to see an old friend?"

Diane rolls her eyes as he takes a seat in front of her. "If we were friends, certainly. Since we're not, I'd love for you to tell me why you're here."

"Please, sit, Diane," he says, gesturing to her chair.

"I'd rather not. I'm assuming you won't be here long."

"I've heard you're down two partners right now?" he asks, shifting in his seat.

"We're not _down_ two partners. They didn't leave Lockhart/Gardner."

"Well, I don't _see _them," he says, turning around to look at Will's empty office. "It just seems to me like you might need a little help around here, that's all."

"If you're trying to come in here and weasel your way into a partnership, you came to the wrong place. Will and Alicia are starting up our branches in New York and Los Angeles, and they'll be back by the end of next summer, but that's not the point. If I needed extra help, I certainly wouldn't ask _you_ to come on board. Thank you for your offer, if that's what it was, but I must politely decline."

"Hey, just trying to lend a hand. If you change your mind, you know where to find me," he says, pulling a business card from his pocket and dropping it on her desk. "I'm sure we'll cross paths again soon."

"Can't wait," Diane mumbles sarcastically under her breath.

Canning turns around. "Sorry, did you say something?"

"No," she says, flashing him a sugary-sweet smile. "Have a good day."

* * *

The next morning, Will sits on the edge of his desk, crossing his Sperry-clad feet as he chews on the end of a pencil. He continues scribbling on the legal pad until he gets frustrated enough to stop.

"How long do you think you'll be?" he asks the technician, trying not to sound irritable at the current lack of wi-fi coupled with the constant noise around him.

"A couple hours," he tells Will, pulling some cables from a box.

"I'm going to head out for some coffee. Can I bring you anything?"

The technician shakes his head. "No, I'm good. Thanks, though."

Will grabs a jacket from the back of his chair before slipping his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans and swiping his keys from the desk. The crisp autumn air greets him as he exits the building, and he smiles to himself, thinking about how the leaves, in their hues of red and yellow and orange, remind him of fall semesters at Georgetown.

He cuts through Bryant Park to get to the nearest Starbucks, noticing the posters for the soon-to-be-installed ice rink and holiday shops.

"_No. Absolutely not. No way," Alicia said as they approached the National Gallery Sculpture Garden. "Not. Happening."_

"_C'mon, Leesh, it'll be fun! You're not going to fall."_

"_Will! Of course I'm going to fall! I've never been ice skating before! I just watched three separate people fall down in the span of, what, thirty seconds since we've been here? Uh-uh. You can go, but I'm going to go buy some hot chocolate and sit right here on this bench," she declared._

"_Nope," he told her, practically dragging her to the skate rental booth. "You're going to put these skates on your feet, you're going to grab onto that rail over there, and then you're going to hold my hand the entire time. If you fall, I will catch you. I promise."_

_Alicia still looked uncertain, but decided to trust him anyway as she reached for the skates. "Promise?"_

"_I will not let go of your hand unless you say so."_

"_Okay," she said anxiously. She did exactly as he had instructed, grabbing onto the rail. "Ohmygod, Will, I'm gonna-"_

"_Nope. I've got you."_

"Sir? Can I get a drink started for you?" the barista asks, peeping out from behind the espresso machine.

"A grande hot chocolate," he tells her. "Thanks."

"_I'm proud of you," Will told her as she unlaced the skates._

"_Will, as soon as I told you to let go of my hand, I fell straight on my ass. I don't think that's an accomplishment to be proud of," Alicia said, laughing._

"_But you got right back up! And hey, at least you tried something new. I'm proud of you for that."_

"_Thanks," she said, the rosiness of her cheeks accentuated by her smile. "Can we get that hot chocolate now?"_

He walks back to the office with one hand in his pocket, the other clutching a very nostalgic cup of hot chocolate.

* * *

When Alicia arrives back to her apartment after work the next day, an overnighted FedEx box full of blueberry bagels awaits her on the front step. A small piece of paper inside bears the words "I'm sorry" in his familiar scrawl, a simple "W" beneath.

She holds the paper in her palm before pressing it to her chest, allowing the two words on the paper to sink into her soul.


End file.
